


Beyond Words

by Buffintruder



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Other, Pining, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Queerplatonic Relationships, referenced discorporation, technically 4 + 1, the premise of this was 'platonic pining' but feel free to interpret it however, they are absolutely queer though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 19:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21167006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buffintruder/pseuds/Buffintruder
Summary: 4 times Crowley pined +1 time he didn’t, over the course of their history





	Beyond Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlightwalking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/gifts).

> For Anna, happy very belated birthday. Thanks for encouraging me to write some platonic pining, I love you <3
> 
> This is slightly more based off the book than the tv show because that was easier for me to check details with and also I just really like the idea of Aziraphale and Crowley having had more than one body in their 6000 years on earth, but this has also definitely been influenced by the show's portrayal of their relationship.

Like other major shifts in Crowley’s life, his love for Aziraphale had started with a question. 

“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” 

It had only been idle curiosity, something to keep the conversation going. Crowley hadn’t meant anything with it, but Aziraphale had instantly looked so guilty, refusing to meet his eyes as he stuttered out a vague excuse, and Crowley’s attention had been snagged. He hadn’t known angels could even feel guilt until then, that anyone so blindly obedient would  _ ever _ do something they thought might be wrong.

Intrigued, Crowley pushed further. “Well?”

“If you must know, I gave it away.” The answer burst out of Aziraphale with an expression approaching anguish.

_ Huh _ , Crowley thought as he stared back, dumbfounded. He had expected something more casual, that maybe Aziraphale had just set it down and forgotten where it was. Or maybe something selfish, something more like what a few of the fallen demons would do, the ones who hadn’t been sure they were picking the right side and definitely felt guilty about the whole thing but still wanted something better for themselves. But this was beyond demonic defiance or even angelic incompetence. Angels were Good, because that was the whole point of it all, but Crowley had never met any that were  _ nice _ .

“Well, I had to,” Aziraphale protested, even though Crowley had offered no judgement. “They looked so cold, poor things, and she’s expecting already, and...” He continued on, every excuse another layer of proof that Aziraphale was like no one Crowley had ever met.

Here was someone who cared too much to be a proper angel or demon, someone who wasn’t quite what either was supposed to be, and Crowley found that utterly fascinating. 

In a way, Crowley could relate. Not with the caring part obviously— _ he _ hadn’t given up anything of his to help the humans—but Crowley also didn’t quite have the right temperament for either side. He had been too disillusioned with God and the Great Plan and everything for the angels, which was why he had even started hanging out with Lucifer and Beelzebub and those lot, but Hell hadn’t turned out to be much better. They still expected the same unquestioning conviction to their side, just with a nastier edge to it.

Maybe, Crowley thought, after all the angels and demons he had tried and failed to get along with and relate to, this was someone he could like.

Aziraphale gave him a worried grin. “That was the best course, wasn’t it?”

_ Not by Heaven’s standards, and definitely not by Hell’s. But maybe it is by  _ yours, _ and that means something, _ Crowley thought. Some strange emotion was building up in him that made him want to offer some sort of comfort or encouragement. But he was a demon, Crowley reminded himself. He couldn’t just go around making angels feel better about themselves.

He settled for sarcasm. “I’m not sure it’s actually possible for you to do evil.”

“Oh, I do hope so,” Aziraphale said in a relieved manner, clearly not having picked up on Crowley’s tone. “I really do hope so. It’s been worrying me all afternoon.”

Crowley should have been irritated by this angel who was either naive or oblivious enough to think Crowley would offer  _ reassurance _ , but he didn’t. He just felt a wave of fondness for this near-stranger he already felt connected to. It was rather odd.

There was a warmth growing in his chest, something entirely different from the burning furnaces of Hell or the radiant light of Heaven. Crowley didn’t know what it meant yet, but he would have all the time in the world to figure it out.

* * *

In his three thousand and five hundred years on Earth, Crowley had run into Aziraphale quite a few times. Hell and Heaven had a tendency to send their agents to do work in the same general area around the same time, often in direct opposition to each other, though Crowley and Aziraphale always seemed to avoid getting into actual physical fights.

In his more optimistic moods, Crowley thought that he and Aziraphale were becoming friends. They spent more time around each other than anyone else after all, and the mildly uncomfortable awkwardness of their first meeting had eased into familiarity.

Aziraphale, Crowley had come to learn, was still the same person who had first caught Crowley’s heart, the kind angel who tried to do his best even if it broke some rules. But he was also so much more than that. He could be a bit of a bastard at times, and was often self-indulgent, spending time and money on plays and performances, and finding far more pleasure in food than angels were supposed to in any earthly matters.

Alarmingly, Crowley found this only endeared Aziraphale to him even more. Crowley liked stories and he thought food was alright, but he found himself letting himself be dragged out more often than he otherwise would have, just so he could watch Aziraphale delight in the wonders of the human world.

Though of course, not all of Aziraphale’s imperfections were so pleasant. He could also be thoughtlessly cruel, bluntly speaking his mind or acting without consideration of the consequences, not caring enough to notice the pain he could cause. Sometimes Aziraphale’s comments hit him like a fiery sword to his heart, but he never meant anything by it, and it happened too rarely for Crowley to get himself worked up over.

After the latest play, Aziraphale was rambling on about one of the characters, as he often did after they saw performances. “How could one not have respect for Antigone’s devotion to her brothers, going against the orders of her king to give them decent burials and please her gods? Such selfless love is one of the best qualities of humans, what drives them to do the good things they do, and it’s truly amazing. Not that you’d understand I suppose.”

It was the matter-of-fact way that he said it that got to Crowley, like it was a simple truth of the universe that they both agreed on, that of course he couldn’t comprehend such a thing as love because he was a demon.

Crowley carefully looked away as Aziraphale continued, wishing he had something covering his face because he was certain that if Aziraphale looked in his direction, he would be able to read his every thought.  _ Demons  _ can _ feel love, _ Crowley wanted to say.  _ Because if what I feel for you isn’t love, then I don’t know what is. I  _ love _ you, more than any angel or demon has ever loved someone, I would wager. Antigone’s not the only one filled with selfless love. I would jump into a vat of holy water for you, or bury myself in a vault for the rest of eternity, if it could bring you in better graces with whatever higher powers cared to judge. _

But he didn’t. Aziraphale hadn’t even sounded sad about Crowley’s supposed inability to love. Whatever Crowley felt for him was obviously not returned.

“But what if demons can love?” Crowley said suddenly, almost before he could stop himself.

“Sorry?” Aziraphale asked, and right, he had been in the middle of talking about some other character or event from the play. Crowley normally cared about what Aziraphale had to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to now.

“You always say that demons can’t feel love, but how do you know?” Crowley asked. “I mean, demons used to be angels. We’re of the same stock.”

“Well, once, sure,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes. “But that’s changed. You didn’t used to be vulnerable to holy water, after all.” He opened his mouth to say more, and Crowley could just tell he was going to bring the conversation back to Antigone, but he couldn’t let this conversation topic go, even if he didn’t seem to be getting anywhere with it. He had to somehow make Aziraphale understand that he did love, even if he would rather die than admit the specifics.

“Maybe this is one of those things that haven’t,” Crowley said. “The other demons are terrible, angels hate me, and I haven’t hung around any specific human long enough to get to really know any, but I bet if I tried, I could love just as easily as you. Have you ever even truly loved someone?”

“Well, of course I have! God, for starters. And the other angels. And humans.”

Crowley waved his hand dismissively. “Those are all general things. Anyone can love in a general sense. I love long naps and fast chariots and scaring humans*.”

*It wasn’t scaring humans that Crowley loved, so much as it was getting respect. However, most respect toward him came in the shape of fear, so that was all he really knew.

“I do truly love them!” Aziraphale insisted. “And naps and such are completely different than loving a person.”

“I know that!” Crowley snapped. Nothing on Earth was comparable to a living being who could have emotions back. Crowley would give all of them up for Aziraphale.

“Which proves my point,” Aziraphale said, even though it absolutely did not. “Anyway, I must be heading off to perform some miracles in front of the Parthenon and put a stop to your wily ways.”

“Wouldn’t putting a stop to my ‘wily ways’ work better here with me?” Crowley asked, putting a vaguely flirty twist to his tone*. For some reason, even after this disaster of a conversation, he still would rather be around Aziraphale than alone.

*Flirting was a new thing he was experimenting with, though if he was being honest with himself, he still wasn’t one hundred percent sure he knew precisely what it was.

“Heaven is currently emphasizing pre-emptive action rather than preventative, my dear,” Aziraphale said, smiling vaguely at him, and Crowley felt utterly bowled over by the double attacks of the dismissal of his company and the words ‘my dear.’ Those were words that were going to haunt his dreams, he could already feel it. “I’ll see you some other time.”

“Ngk,” said Crowley as Aziraphale waved at him and walked away. It was probably a phrase of habit that Aziraphale tossed around to everyone he spoke to. The angel had that kind of warm, friendly energy that made it completely believable for him to use endearments around anyone he didn’t actively hate. That had to be the explanation. After the conversation they had just had, it was clear that he couldn’t possibly mean as much by it as Crowley wanted him to. He would just tear himself apart, trying to hope otherwise.

* * *

“Hello, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, leaning against the wall of the library. “I like your hair this time around.” In general, Aziraphale’s new body seemed better suited to him, but Crowley particularly appreciated the thick black curls over the bland brown hair of Aziraphale’s last body.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped as he spun around. “How did you know it was me? You always seem to know.”

Crowley shrugged and waved a general hand at Aziraphale. “You’re just... you.  _ You _ can always tell its me when I get new bodies.”

“Well, it’s not hard to spot yellow eyes or tinted glasses,” Aziraphale said dryly. “I don’t have such defining features.”

“Maybe not physically,” Crowley said. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain that no matter what proportions, there was something very distinctive about the way Aziraphale moved, and no matter what language, there was something very familiar in the way he talked. Maybe it wasn’t so obvious to others, but Crowley had spent a lot of time watching and thinking about Aziraphale. That part would have been awkward to admit though, so he kept his mouth shut. “What happened to the last one, anyway?”

“A dreadful incident,” Aziraphale said regretfully. “There was some commotion in a village... I may have said some things, and the next day some people burned my house down.”

Crowley’s insides twisted, and he fought the urge to ask him if he was okay. The answer was rather obvious. “Must have been some controversial things you said.”

“Oh, you know, just that God would not advocate for hating some particular members of the community, no matter how different they may be.” Aziraphale shrugged. “It was some inconvenient paperwork over the body, but I’m more disappointed about my books.”

“Your books?” Crowley raised an eyebrow and hid a smile. Only Aziraphale would care more about his books than the fact that his neighbors had killed him.  _ You are utterly ridiculous and I love you _ , he thought, fondness curling up deep within his chest.

“I was thinking about starting a collection,” Aziraphale admitted. “I’d only gathered a couple so far, but unfortunately they perished in the fire.”

“Why don’t you just miracle them back?” Crowley asked. He wasn’t entirely sure why Aziraphale was complaining to him. 

Aziraphale pouted. “They weren’t just regular books, they were  _ special _ . They had character! If I miracled them back, I’d always know deep down that they were fake, and that would make them... less. Forgeries of first editions and such aren’t valuable, you know.”

“Unless you can convince someone they are,” Crowley pointed out.

“Well,  _ I'd _ know otherwise.” Aziraphale sighed, a mournful expression crossing his face.

_ Oh no _ , Crowley thought furiously to himself.  _ Don’t you dare. _

But a part of him had already made up its mind to do absolutely anything in the world to wipe that sad look off Aziraphale’s face.  _ You’ve seen him sad before,  _ Crowley tried to tell himself.  _ Why is this time any different? _

It was because Aziraphale looked genuinely heartbroken in a way that Crowley had never seen before, not even the time they had gone to that place with the really good oysters and found that the owner had died a couple years ago. Despite his pouting and efforts to downplay it somewhat, Aziraphale was clearly upset by his loss, and for some unfathomable reason*, Crowley couldn’t bear to see him like that.

*Who was he kidding. The reason was extremely fathomable; he just didn’t want to admit it.

“What books were those?” Crowley found himself asking.

“Oh, you know,” Aziraphale said, listing off a few.

“I’m not doing anything right now, I could help you try to find another copy of them,” Crowley said, ignoring the tiny corner of his brain that was asking him what exactly he thought he was doing.

“Would you?” Aziraphale brightened instantly, and looking at him now, Crowley knew that he would never in a million years be able to regret cheering up Aziraphale like that. The only problem now was stopping himself from forming a habit of it, but that was a problem for future him; present Crowley was busy enjoying the warmth of Aziraphale’s hopeful smile.

* * *

When Crowley arrived at St. James Park, Aziraphale was waiting for him, a large grin spreading across his face. They had only just gotten in the habit of meeting up on a biweekly basis, and Crowley was still getting used to the routine of it, but he knew Aziraphale wasn’t normally this excited for their meetings.

“What’s got you so cheerful today, angel?” Crowley asked as he sprawled himself across the bench.

Aziraphale lips attempted to move down into a more neutral expression, but his eyes still shone with the same excitement. “It’s a special day today.”

“It is?” Crowley raised an eyebrow, his own lips twitching upwards. “September, uh, sixteenth?”

“1964,” Aziraphale finished. “One thousand years to the day since we formed our official Arrangement.”

“Oh.” Crowley jolted into a more upright position, his thoughts suddenly a lot more panicked. “Uh, I completely forgot about that—I didn’t do anything for it—”

Aziraphale waved him off. “It’s not like we’ve ever noted the date or anything, but since it was a millennia, I wanted to do something special.”

“You didn’t have to,” Crowley protested weakly. Despite Aziraphale’s reassurance, he did still feel like he should have remembered, that he should have planned something out. Aziraphale had, after all.

“That’s why I wanted to,” Aziraphale said, smiling softly at him in a way that Crowley wanted to hold onto forever. “You don’t have to worry about it. The Arrangement would have been formed earlier if not for me anyway, so.” 

Which didn’t make sense to Crowley. Sure he had been on board with the idea of working together long before Aziraphale, but an arrangement needed more than one side to work, and it wasn’t like any other angel would have agreed faster. But before he could say anything, Aziraphale pulled out two slips of paper from his pocket, and Crowley’s brain froze.

“Tickets to tomorrow’s premier of that new movie with the man you like,” Aziraphale said, beaming at him.

“James Bond,” Crowley said hoarsely. “You—you remembered.”

“You mentioned liking the other one—or was it the other two?—a few years back, and well, the dates lined up,” Aziraphale said, casually like he didn’t notice Crowley practically falling apart.

Crowley had  _ loved _ the other two James Bond movies, scarcely able to think of anything else for at least a couple months after each one. Aziraphale had been off in Italy when Crowley saw the first one, but after the second, it had taken Crowley all he had to not talk about it nonstop. People didn’t like to hear others talk about movies they hadn’t seen, so Crowley had dropped a recommendation a couple of times, but when Aziraphale didn’t follow up on it, Crowley tried to keep his thoughts about it as much to himself as possible.

He hadn’t realized Aziraphale would remember him bringing them up, much less act on that information. Most days, Hell barely remembered he was the one who had tempted Eve and started this whole thing, much less something he had mentioned caring about a few times. He didn’t know what to do with that kind of affection.

“I—thank you,” Crowley said, even though the words felt hollow compared to the enormity of what Aziraphale had given him. It wasn’t just a ticket—Crowley could have gotten that himself. It was Aziraphale’s attention, his consideration, his time. No one had ever really given him a present like that before.

“I admit, I was curious to see what the fuss was about,” Aziraphale said. “Since you like it so much, it must be good.”

Crowley felt a surge of affection, a ridiculous desire to do something,  _ anything  _ to show Aziraphale how much he loved him for that. There weren’t words to describe how much such a simple thing meant to him. Crowley had never really gone in for the human concept of kissing, but right now it seemed like the kind of big gesture that would express the intensity of his feelings.

“Thanks,” Crowley said instead, because that wasn’t who they were. Aziraphale liked him, but not in the same intense and devoted way that Crowley did, and he didn’t want to make anything uncomfortable by seeming too much when Aziraphale was still so slow and careful about the whole thing. Sure Crowley had never really tried to hide how much he cared, but he had never been so overt about it, not in this way.

“Anytime, my dear,” Aziraphale said, soft in a way that made Crowley wonder if he actually did know exactly how much this meant to him.

* * *

**+1**

Everything seemed so much quieter after the world almost ended. It wasn’t like Crowley was living a particularly upbeat life before the Anti-Christ came to the Earth, but there had always been a background tension. And now it wasn’t there. For possibly the first time in his life, Crowley felt at peace.

Heaven and Hell would undoubtedly get up to something or another sooner or later, but for now they were backing off, with the help of Adam’s influence. Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley were really working for them anymore, which meant they had more time for their hobbies and passions than ever.

For Crowley, this meant sleeping twelve hours a day, spending lots of time with his plants, going for walks in the park with Aziraphale, and hanging around the bookshop, the last of which he was currently in the middle of doing. 

“We should wrap this up soon,” Aziraphale said, gesturing between the two of them. “I promised Madame Tracy I would have tea with her this afternoon. Did you know she and Shadwell are planning to retire out to the countryside soon?”

Crowley made a vague negative noise. He hadn’t kept in touch with either of them since the whole debacle. “Well, good for her,” he said.

Aziraphale smiled. “Indeed. I was wondering, since we are no longer representatives of Heaven or Hell, if you might like to do the same with me?”

Crowley froze. Since the Apoca-wasn’t, he knew that Aziraphale had broken some of the tightest chains binding him to Heaven, the ones that told him he shouldn’t put Earth or a demon or anything else over his loyalty to Heaven. It was a shift in their relationship that had been a long time coming, but other than a bit more open fondness from Aziraphale, nothing substantial had changed. Their new free lives had been too fresh to properly process it all. 

But now Aziraphale was proposing a much larger change. Crowley had wanted this for such a long time, but now that it was happening, it all seemed too fast. He wasn't prepared for this.

“Uh,” he said, trying to force his thoughts to start working again. “What kind of place?”

“Some cottage perhaps, with plenty of space for your plants and my books of course. And nice places nearby to take walks in, and good restaurants.” Aziraphale wasn’t quite looking at Crowley, and despite his casual tone of voice, Crowley knew he was actually nervous.

This was what he wanted, Crowley thought, almost dizzy with the unreality of the situation. “I—yes! That sounds nice. But I’d have business to wrap up in London first...”

“Oh, of course,” Aziraphale said, clearly relieved. “We needn’t rush the move. We have all the time in the world.”

“We do,” Crowley said, and maybe that should have sent a pang of worry because how much longer  _ did _ the world have, now that one attempt to end it had failed? But for this moment, he felt relief. There were no outside pressures on them, pushing and pulling them apart. It was just them and time, and whatever they chose to do with it. He grinned at Aziraphale, perhaps a little soppily. “England, I assume? Maybe somewhere south?”

“After all this time, could you imagine living anywhere else?”

“I’ll look around for some options,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale smiled and stood up. “That sounds delightful. Now, I really must get going.”

“Couldn’t have you be late for once in your life,” Crowley drawled as he stood up and followed Aziraphale to the entrance of the bookstore.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Then he leaned forward, giving Crowley a light kiss on the cheek and said, “Goodbye, love. I’ll see you in a bit.”

If Crowley’s train of thought had come to a screeching halt by Aziraphale's earlier proposal, the tracks beneath it were utterly obliterated now. The entire world seemed to slow to a halt as heat crawled into his cheeks and down his nose. _ Nothing _ like this had ever happened before, and he didn’t know how to process it. Aziraphale had  _ kissed _ him, a gesture so tender and affectionate that Crowley didn’t know how he could contain all those soft feelings inside of himself without exploding.

And he had called him ‘love.’ Aziraphale was hardly stingy with affectionate terms, or at least he had never been with Crowley, calling him ‘my dear’ before they had even started properly working together. But ‘love’ was new, ‘love’ had connotations, especially given the context. Did Aziraphale  _ love _ him? he wondered. And if this term of endearment meant something now, had Crowley been dear to Aziraphale all this time? He wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with that.

This whole time, Aziraphale hadn’t moved, Crowley noticed once his thoughts had begun to stop crashing into each other quite so much. Instead, he was standing just inside his shop with an utterly smug grin stretching from ear to ear. He was  _ pleased _ at watching Crowley fall into pieces in front of him, Crowley realized. That absolute  _ bastard _ .

“Goodbye,” Crowley managed to croak out.

Aziraphale’s grin somehow managed to grow a bit wider, and without another word, he turned around and left his shop, a slight spring to his step.

Well, that was something, Crowley thought. He felt like he needed another six thousand years to process that. He was rather looking forward to it.


End file.
